


Raw

by BarPurple



Series: Sherlolly Against the World [40]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 15:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: Molly has a problem with a box that she hasn't opening in years while she is packing up to move house,





	Raw

Sherlock Holmes would be the first to admit, (boast), that he lacked empathy. He had built a persona around the concept of being an un-feeling arsehole; it was his hallmark, and very useful during cases. However – Molly Hooper was one of the few exceptions to every self-imposed rule he had ever made; to find her shaking about a box in her hall cupboard threw him for a six, (thank you Lestrade for the cricket metaphors).

He tried for a logical approach; “Oh good; you are moving house, and this box is already packed up.”

Molly glared at him and turned on her heel to go and put the kettle on. Sherlock contemplated opening the box while she was away, but opted to call John instead. He rolled his eyes as the ring tones gave way to voicemail;

“John Watson. If you are not Sherlock leave a message. If you are Sherlock, gimme time to type!”

Sherlock sighed and texted Mrs Hudson. Four minutes later, (four minutes in which Molly was slamming around in the kitchen), Hudders called him back.

“Hello, Mrs Hudson can you….”

“You idiot Sherlock! That box has history, it’s good that Molly doesn’t want to move in to her new place with it, I am so glad she is taking the downstairs flat, I understand that you two want your own space, you are such a sweet couple and I’m going to love having an official cat, Toby is a darling. Anyway, about this box; it is not going to be easy for her to throw out whatever is in there. DO NOT be a prat! Now when I was moving in to Baker Street…”

“Yes. Thank you, Mrs H. Goodbye.”

Sherlock dropped his phone into his pocket before his thumb had hit end call, which gave him a strange moment of Hudders babbling about her past from his pocket. He shuddered and stared at the box. Right. This was difficult for Molly, so he had to make it easier for her. Damn it. He was shite at making anything easier, and she had already made a cuppa, (his usual go to for first step Molly soothing). He hissed in a breath between his teeth; “Suck it up Sherlock.”

He eased the lid off the box and took a fast peek. Shite. An external memory palace that would invoke the associated emotional recollections. Coital-Simians, (He made a note that Rosie was already leaning his Latinate versions of John’s favourite curse words – time to change to Russian or Chinese). He took a vey deep breath and hauled the box out of the cupboard. He could do this for Molly. A sudden thought occurred, and he jammed the box between the hall wall and his hip as he fired off a rapid text to Anthea. Right. Showtime.

Molly was sat on her sofa, staring into space as Sherlock edged into the room with that box in his hands. He sat down next to her and carefully placed it on the coffee table.

“Molly. Shall we go through this together?”

Sherlock counted to four hundred before Molly responded.

“There are photos and gift or two in there. I’ve not opened it since you came back.”

His mind corelated the glimpse of the contents with what he knew of that period in her life. Photos of dates, probably with Tom, or ‘Jim’. A government no trace phone. St Barts ID from before his Fall.

Fuck. He didn’t need John, Greg, or Hudders to tell him why she didn’t want to open this box. There were chambers, door-less towers and oubliettes in his Mind Palace that he avoided. He could, and frequently did, chose to ignore those; but in the face of this box of physical reminders Molly had to face the nightmares of her past.

“So, do we need a shredder, or a blow torch?”

That made her laugh; not her happy laugh, this was the laugh she gave when she didn’t want to cry. Sherlock wrapped his arm around her shoulder and relaxed a little when she leaned into his tentative embrace.

“Let’s go through it, and then find some wasteland with a can of petrol and a box of matches?”

Sherlock brought his free arm around her and pulled her into a closer hug; “I can call in a favour and get room on the next shuttle launch if you need it, Molly.”

She chuckled wetly against his chest; “Nah, if anyone is going to go into space it’ll be me.”

He nuzzled his face against her hair and whispered; “Damn right, Molly Hooper.”

-x-x-x-

**From the desk of Mycroft Holmes – Private Interdepartmental Memo – Destroy after Reading.**

Please explain invoices for Chinese Take-out for two; matches; one gallon of petrol; £5000 fine for bonfire in ‘smokeless zone’????

**Name and Position Redacted – Private Interdepartmental Memo – Destroy before reading**

Pathologist moving expenses – charged to Little Brother account

_Text from Anthea to Mycroft_

House warming for Molly on the 17th. You ARE attending. You have bought her cat toys for Toby - (her cat and I know you know that) – I promise I will get you out of there before the karaoke starts.

_Text from Mycroft to Anthea_

In an official and respectful way – I love you


End file.
